The Curly-Haired Hen | Page 8

kitchen, which
served also as a reception room. On the hearth burned a small bundle of
scented herbs which filled the whole room with fragrance. Yollande
was sitting in her usual place.
"Well, Madame, have you at last decided to let me have the
curly-haired hen?"

Mother Etienne neither moved nor answered.
"See here, Madame, I offer you $4,000, $6,000, $8,000," and so saying
he took from a red morocco pocketbook in banknotes the sums he
mentioned, and spread them out on the table before the astonished eyes
of Mother Etienne and Germaine.
Mother Etienne still shook her head in refusal.
Germaine, driven wild by this sight, began to exclaim: "Yes, sir,--yes,
Madame. Yes, sir,--yes, Madame," and threw herself into the arms first
of the American, and then of Mother Etienne, who still remained
obdurate.
Miss Booum, taking Mother Etienne's hand, said coaxingly: "You can
safely trust her to me. I will take care of her myself, Madame. With us
she will become famous throughout the world. All the newspapers will
speak of her. From your poultry-yard she will come into contact with
the greatest courts of the world. She will be petted by Grand Duchesses,
and receive hands. Besides all this she will be in good company and
will have plenty to amuse her."
This pleading succeeded in dragging from Mother Etienne the
longed-for "Yes," which, though stifled by emotion, was seized upon
by the American.
The good woman had said "Yes," she had conquered the selfishness of
a mother for two reasons. She did not want to prevent Yollande from
getting on in the world, and also she wished to let Germaine share this
fortune, for it was owing to her that the hen had become so valuable,
and she did not think it right to deprive her of the benefit.
[Illustration: Miss Booum brings Mother Etienne to the circus tent.]
"That's all settled, then. Here's the contract," said the American, "you
have only to sign it." And a receipt duly prepared was handed to
Mother Etienne, who in a trembling hand appended her signature and a
flourish. I don't know that she did not even embellish it with a huge

blot of ink.
Then Miss Booum stooped and gently took under her arm Yollande,
who oddly enough made no resistance.
"Oh please, please let me kiss her again," and, tears in her eyes, Mother
Etienne tenderly embraced the Cochin-China.
"You will take great care of Yollande, won't you? You will send me
news of her? Where is she to sleep to-night?"
"Oh, as to that, Madame, would you like to see the place prepared for
her? Come with us. There is room in the carriage and I promise to have
you brought back again at once. The camp is not far from here, the road
is good, the horses fast, and in half an hour at most you will be
perfectly reassured and can return with your mind at rest."
Mother Etienne, without further thought, still guided by her tender
maternal heart, needed no urging, but followed by the two Americans,
walked with a brisk, firm step towards the carriage. Suddenly changing
her mind, she said:
"Will you just let me change my dress? I can't very well go out like
this."
She went to her room, an idea having entered her head, and soon
returned very neatly dressed with a little basket in her hand.
The steps were adjusted and the three people took their places on top,
whilst Yollande, wrapped in soft woollen covers, was carefully placed
inside, in a basket provided for that very purpose.
When Germaine saw her mistress start off she would have liked to go
with her, but the farm needed her attention. Besides, Miss Booum's
promise of seats for the next performance quite consoled her.
The carriage made a curve in the yard, went through the gate, and soon
disappeared, bearing the two new travellers. As Miss Booum had said,

it did not take more than half an hour to reach the camp, the cobs went
so quickly.
On the way Mother Etienne met many acquaintances to whom she
waved a simple but cordial greeting. In most cases the carriage was
already out of sight before they recovered sufficiently from their
astonishment to wave back.
It was a nine days' wonder.
CHAPTER VII
SIR BOOUM'S CIRCUS
Our travellers came in sight of the circus. Imagine, children, a huge
encampment like a small town,--with sections, and streets, houses of
green canvas on stout poles, tall caravans on wheels enclosing
everything as though with impassable walls, and in the centre all sorts
of people, in all sorts of costumes, walking up and down.
There were brown men, yellow men, red men, black men, big men,
little men, thin men, fat men, lame men, deformed men,